Ishita's Perspective

The heavy oak door of our bedroom clicked shut, and I heard the unmistakable sound of the lock turning. In this mansion, that sound was my signal-the signal that the world had finally been shut out, and it was just us.

I walked over to my grand vanity table, the weight of the day-both emotional and literal-settling on my shoulders.

"Alexa, open vanity lights," I murmured.

Instantly, the mirror was framed in a soft, warm glow, reflecting a version of me that looked like a tired princess. I started the long process of de-glamorizing. My **chooda** clinked against the glass surface as I carefully unfastened the heavy **Kundan and Polki necklace** Bebe had adorned me with this morning. The relief of the weight leaving my neck was instant, but my ears were still throbbing from the massive *Jhumkas*.

Rudra was already moving behind me. I watched him in the mirror as he stripped off his tailored suit jacket and tie, tossing them onto the armchair. He disappeared into the walk-in closet for a moment and emerged in a simple black t-shirt and grey trousers. Even in casuals, his 6'3" muscular frame and those **ocean-blue eyes** made my heart do that familiar, frantic dance.

"Need help with the rest, *Jaan*?" he asked, his voice low as he leaned against the doorframe, watching me wipe away the bold red lipstick and the winged liner.

"No, I've got it," I tiredly smiled, finishing with my face wash.

I slipped into the bathroom, quickly changing out of the heavy silk saree and into a soft, satin nighty that felt like a second skin. When I walked back out, I didn't care about being graceful. I literally face-planted onto the middle of the massive bed, my limbs splaying out in pure exhaustion.

"Oh my god," I muffled into the pillow. "The *Pag Phere* day is officially over. My feet are dead, Rudra. DEAD.

A low, vibrating purr echoed from the side of the bed. I felt the mattress dip significantly. I turned my head to see **Oscar**, the tiger, with his massive front paws resting on the edge of our bed, his large head leaning right next to my hip. He let out a soft huff, his golden eyes blinking at me as if to say, *'Welcome back, human.'*

"Even Oscar knows you're being dramatic," Rudra chuckled, walking over. He sat on the edge of the bed, his weight making me roll slightly toward him.

"I am not being dramatic!" I protested, rolling onto my back and looking up at him. "I spent the whole day being the 'Perfect Rathor Bahu' and the 'Returned Sharma Daughter.' My face hurts from smiling, and my brain hurts from all that sibling banter."

Rudra reached out, his large, warm hand settling on my stomach, his thumb tracing circles over the satin fabric. "You were the star of the show today, Ishita. Even if you are 'technically' the youngest."

I giggled, remembering the look on Ahana's face. "I really am 24, Rudra. Do you feel like you married a kid now?"

His gaze darkened, his hand sliding up to my waist, pulling me closer until my head was resting on his lap. He leaned down, his face inches from mine, his breath smelling like the mint he'd had after the ice cream.

"A kid?" He ran his fingers through my loose, curly hair, untangling the knots from the day. "No. I feel like I married the most dangerous woman in Rajasthan. You managed to tame my brothers, my sister, and even a tiger... all while eating a tub of chocolate fudge."

Oscar chuffed again, nudging my arm with his wet nose.

"See?" I whispered, reaching out to scratch Oscar behind his ears. "Even your 'vicious' pet is on my side. We're the youngest ones here, we have to stick together."

Rudra let out a soft laugh, but his eyes stayed fixed on mine, full of that intense, ocean-blue fire. "Well, since the 'baby' of the house is so exhausted, I suppose I should cancel my plans for the rest of the night?"

I looked up at him, my exhaustion suddenly fighting with the spark of mischief I saw in his eyes. "What plans, *Patidev*?"

He leaned down, his lips brushing against my forehead, right where the sindoor had been. "Plans that involve me reminding you that even if you're 24, you're still woman enough to bring the great Rudra Singh Rathor to his knees."

My breath hitched. "Rudra... Oscar is watching."

"Oscar," Rudra said without looking away from me, "Get down."

The tiger let out a disappointed huff, hopped off the bed, and padded over to his oversized rug near the balcony. Rudra turned back to me, a predatory smirk on his face. "Now... where were we?"

I shook my head, a tired but playful giggle escaping me as I saw the look in his eyes. He might be the "Cold-Hearted Prince" to the world, but right now, he was just my husband looking for a bit of trouble.

"Nowhere" I whispered, scrambling across the silk sheets on my hands and knees until I reached him.

Instead of letting him take control, I dove straight into his chest, my head hitting the soft cotton of his black T-shirt. I wrapped my arms around his waist, burrowing my face into the crook of his neck. The Delhi December air was biting, even with the heater on, and the satin of my nighty was no match for the chill.

"Blanket! Blanket! Blanket!" I whined into his skin, my voice muffled but insistent. I squeezed him as hard as my tired arms could manage. "It's so cold, Ru... please! *Bohat thand hai!*"

I felt his chest rumble with a deep, hearty chuckle as his large arms instinctively wound around me, pulling me up until I was practically sitting in his lap. He was like a human furnace-radiating a heat that made my toes curl in relief.

"Ru?" he repeated, his voice vibrating against my temple.

"Since I'm too cold to say 'Rudra' or 'Patidev'," I mumbled, shivering as a draft caught the back of my neck. "Now give me the duvet! Don't just sit there looking like a Greek god, help your freezing wife!"

He let out a resigned sigh, but I felt the tenderness in the way he tucked a loose curl behind my ear. "You were the one who wanted to go out and eat ice cream in 8-degree weather, remember? My 'Gen-Z' queen seems to have forgotten how winter works."

"I don't care about logic right now! I want warmth!"

Rudra didn't say another word. With one powerful arm still holding me against him, he reached out and grabbed the heavy, plush duvet. With a flick of his wrist, he draped it over both of us, cocooning us in a mountain of down and silk.

I let out a long, happy sigh, snuggling even deeper into him. My cold nose pressed against his warm neck, and I felt him stiffen for a second before he relaxed, his hand coming up to stroke the back of my head.

"Better?" he whispered into the top of my hair.

"Much better," I breathed. The scent of him-that intoxicating mix of wood and pure *Rudra*-was the best lullaby. "You're so warm, Ru. You're like my own personal heater."

"Is that all I am to you? A utility?" He teased, though he pulled me closer, his chin resting on top of my head. "I thought I was the love of your life."

"You're both," I yawned, the exhaustion of the *Pag Phere* finally winning the battle against my senses. I felt my eyes getting heavy, the rhythmic beat of his heart under my ear acting as a steady drum. "The love of my life... who happens to be very, very warm."

Across the room, I heard the soft, heavy breathing of **Oscar** as he settled onto his rug. Inside the duvet, it was a world of our own. No blackmail, no three-year gaps, no business mergers. Just me and my Prince.

"Go to sleep, Ishita," he murmured, his voice softening into that rare, gentle tone he only saved for me. "I've got you. You're not going anywhere, and the cold isn't getting in."

"I'm never going anywhere," I whispered back, my grip on his shirt tightening as I drifted off.

I heard him whisper one last thing before I completely fell under: *"Neither am I, Jaana. Never again."*

👑 Rudra's Perspective

The silence of the Rathor mansion at **4:00 AM** is something I've lived with for years. It's the time when I build my empire, when the "Cold-Hearted Prince" sharpens his edge. I slipped out of the warmth of the duvet, careful not to disturb the woman curled into a ball beside me.

I spent two hours in the private gym, the rhythmic clang of iron and the burn in my muscles grounding me. Every rep felt easier today; maybe it was the peace of finally having her home. By **6:00 AM**, I had showered and changed into a pair of black joggers and a fitted tee, the scent of sandalwood soap clinging to my skin.

I didn't leave the room. Instead, I sat on the edge of the bed with my laptop, the blue light of the screen reflecting in my eyes as I cleared the morning's global reports. I watched her intermittently-her chest rising and falling, her long curly hair fanned out across my pillow like a dark silken web.

The alarm on her phone-some upbeat, chirpy song that was far too loud for this hour-pierced the silence. I saw her stir, a small groan escaping her lips as she fought the transition from dreams to reality.

Then came the "stretch."

Ishita's arms went wide, her fingers reaching for the edges of the bed in a grand, dramatic yawn. *Thwack.* Her hand collided right with the back of my laptop screen, nearly tilting it off my lap.

"Areee yrrrr... *subha subha kaam?*" (Ugh... work first thing in the morning?)

Her voice was thick with sleep, a raspy, adorable mumble. She squinted at me, one eye open, her hair a chaotic, beautiful mess.

I caught her hand before she could retreat, my thumb brushing over her knuckles. "It's 7:00 AM, Ishita. Most of the world has been at work for hours. And some of us," I leaned closer, my **ocean-blue eyes** locking onto her sleepy brown ones, "have already finished a leg day and a board summary."

She sat up, the duvet falling to her waist, her satin nighty slightly rumpled. She looked at the laptop screen with genuine offense.

"Rudra, it's **December 25th**," she pouted, her lower lip sticking out in that way that usually ends with me doing whatever she wants. "It's Christmas! And it's only our **sixth day of marriage**. Don't you think the President of Eternity can take a morning off to just... I don't know, exist with his wife?"

I closed the laptop with a definitive snap and set it on the nightstand. If she wanted my attention, she had a very dangerous way of asking for it.

"You're right," I murmured, shifting my weight so I was looming over her, my shadow eclipsing her small frame. I supported myself on my elbows, trapping her between my arms. "It *is* Christmas. And since you've decided that my work is an intruder, I suppose I'll have to find another way to stay busy."

I saw her breath hitch, her eyes widening as the sleepiness vanished, replaced by that spark of attraction I loved to ignite.

"Like what?" she whispered, her hands coming up to rest on my chest, feeling the steady thrum of my heart.

"Like reminding you that while it's the 6th day of our marriage, I still haven't properly thanked you for coming back to me," I said, my voice dropping to a low, husky register. I leaned down, my nose brushing against hers. "Happy Christmas, *Jaana*."

She giggled, the sound bright and warm in the quiet room. "You're so dramatic when you're not being 'The Boss,' Ru. Is there a gift involved in this 'Happy Christmas,' or is it just you being bossy?"

I smirked, reaching over to the drawer and pulling out a small, velvet-lined box I'd hidden there last night. "I'm a Rathor, Ishita. We don't do holidays without a statement."

I opened the box to reveal a delicate diamond necklace, shimmering even in the morning light.

"For my janna ," I teased, "to match those noisy payals you love to wear."

Her eyes softened, glowing with a mix of love and that playful spirit I had missed for three years. She pulled me down by my neck, her lips meeting mine in a soft, lingering kiss that tasted like the start of a very long, very beautiful day.

"Best. Christmas. Ever," she breathed against my lips.

I looked at her for a long moment, my hands instinctively reaching out to find hers under the heavy duvet. I caught her small, brown-skinned fingers in my large, pale ones. Even now, in the warmth of our bed, they felt like carved ice.

"Jaan, tell me one thing," I said, my voice dropping into a serious, yet curious tone.

"Hmm?" she murmured, still half-lost in the cozy comfort of the pillows, her long curly hair spilling over my arm.

"Why are your hands and feet always so cold?" I asked, pulling her hand up to my lips to blow warm air over her knuckles. "Last night, while you slept, I held your feet against my legs to warm them up. They were freezing for at least an hour before they finally thawed. Why is that?"

I paused, my **ocean-blue eyes** narrowing as I looked back through the files of my memory-files I had replayed every night during those three agonizing years we were apart.

"And it's not just now," I added, my thumb tracing the pulse point on her wrist. "I noticed this many times even before our marriage-even before everything happened. Every time I touched your hand back then, it was like touching a snowflake. Is your blood made of ice, or is my princess just not human?"

Ishita blinked, the sleepiness finally clearing from her eyes as she looked at me. She seemed surprised that I had noticed such a minute detail from so long ago. She didn't realize that to me, every inch of her was a map I had memorized.

"I... I don't know, Ru," she whispered, a small, shy smile tugging at her lips. She snuggled closer, tucking her cold nose into the crook of my neck, seeking my body heat. "Mummy used to say the same thing. She said my heart takes all the warmth and leaves nothing for my fingers."

"Well, your heart is definitely warm enough for both of us," I grumbled playfully, though I wrapped my other arm around her, pulling her entire 5'3" frame flush against my chest. "But it worries me. You're like a little bird that needs a heater 24/7. Is this why you're so obsessed with blankets and my hoodies?"

I leaned back, pulling her with me so she was resting on my chest. "I remember the day I saved you at the Shiv Mandir. When I caught you on those stairs, even through your sleeve, I felt that chill. I thought you were just scared, but now I realize it's just *you*."

I ran my warm hand down her arm, trying to transfer my post-workout heat into her skin. "Three years, Ishita. Three years I spent thinking about the warmth of your smile, but I'd forgotten just how much work it is to keep your hands warm. Is this part of the 'Destiny Collide' plan? To make me your permanent heater?"

Ishita giggled, her breath warm against my skin, providing a stark contrast to her chilly fingers. "Maybe it is! Maybe fate knew that a cold-hearted Prince like you needed a cold-handed Princess to keep him busy. Besides, if my hands weren't cold, you wouldn't have an excuse to hold them all the time, would you?"

I let out a soft huff, a smirk spreading across my face. I tilted her chin up, my blue eyes searching her brown ones.

"I don't need an excuse to hold you, *Jaan*," I murmured, my voice turning husky. "But from now on, consider it a royal decree: you are not allowed to sleep without your feet tucked under mine. I'm not having my wife turn into an ice sculpture on my watch."

She laughed, the sound bright and clear, filling the room with more warmth than the heater ever could. "Yes, *Patidev*. Your wish is my command."

I kissed her forehead, right on the spot where the sindoor would soon be applied. "Good. Now, since it's Christmas, do you think you can manage to stay warm long enough for us to go downstairs, or do I need to carry you down wrapped in this duvet like a burrito?"

💖 Ishita's Perspective

I stepped out of the bathroom, the steam still clinging to my skin, and walked toward the mirror. Today felt special-it was Christmas, our sixth day of being reunited as husband and wife, and I wanted to look every bit the Rathor Bahu.

I chose a **deep emerald green saree**. The silk felt cool and luxurious against my skin, the gold border shimmering under the vanity lights. I draped it carefully, making sure the pleats were perfect. Then came the rituals I cherished most: the **sindoor** in my parting, and this things always on me the **mangalsutra** around my neck, and the **toe rings** that felt like tiny anchors to my new life.

I looked at my hand. My **engagement ring** caught the light, sparkling brilliantly.

After a bit of kohl and a nude lip, I grabbed my clutch and headed downstairs. The **jingle of my payal** and the **clinking of my chooda** felt like a melody as I reached the landing.

I stopped at the top of the stairs for a second. There he was, standing near the breakfast table, deep in conversation with Akshat.

*Ufff.* Even on Christmas, he was in full office attire-a shirt that hugged his **muscular frame** perfectly, the sleeves rolled up to reveal his powerful forearms. His sharp features were highlighted by the morning sun, and those **ocean-blue eyes** were scanning a document. He looked devastatingly handsome, like a Greek god who had accidentally wandered into a boardroom.

"Good morning, everyone!" I announced, making my way down.

Rudra's head snapped up instantly. The moment his gaze landed on me in the green saree, his eyes darkened, that familiar look of intense possession swirling in the blue. He didn't even acknowledge Akshat's last sentence.

"Good morning, *Jaana*," he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly vibration that sent a shiver down my spine.

I walked straight up to him, ignoring the teasing smirks from Jay and Ahana who were already at the table. I reached out and adjusted his collar, my **chooda-clad hands** looking so small against his broad chest.

"Office attire, Rudra? *Aaj bhi?* (Even today?)" I whispered, looking up at him. "It's Christmas! I thought we were having a family day."

"I have one quick meeting with the London team to finalize what we started yesterday, Ishita," he said, his hand settling on my waist, pulling me a fraction closer. "Then I am all yours. I promise."

"Bhabhi, don't listen to him!" Jay chimed in, his mouth full of paratha. "Bhai thinks the world will stop spinning if he isn't checking his emails. Tell him the 'Youngest Bahu' has banned work for the day."

Ahana nodded, laughing. "Yeah, Rudra Bhai! Look how beautiful Bhabhi looks in green. You should be taking her out for a Christmas lunch, not staring at a laptop!"

Rudra looked at his siblings, then back at me. He leaned down, his lips brushing against my ear, his scent-that intoxicating mix of power and spice-enveloping me.

"You do look beautiful," he whispered, so low only I could hear. "The green makes you look like a forest sprite. It's making it very difficult for me to actually leave for that meeting."

I pouted, tracing the 'R' on my mangalsutra pendant. "Then don't go. Stay here. We have to open gifts with Krish

Rudra sighed, his thumb stroking the side of my waist. Ishita. If I'm not back in this room by then, you can officially 'kidnap' me and lock me in our room. Deal?"

I giggled, my heart melting. "Deal. But if you're a minute late, I'm letting Oscar sleep in the middle of our bed tonight."

Rudra's smirk widened. "Now that is a threat I can't ignore.

The morning sun was streaming through the heavy velvet curtains, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air. I was standing by the bed, fumbling with the heavy leather latches of Rudra's briefcase. My **chooda** made a frantic clinking sound against the metal, a sharp contrast to the quiet, focused energy in the room.

Rudra was standing in front of the full-length mirror, adjusting his silk tie with practiced precision. He looked every bit the ruthless President of **Eternity**-tall, intimidating, and heart-stoppingly handsome.

I slid his laptop into the sleeve, snapping the briefcase shut with more force than necessary. I turned around, resting my hands on my waist, the emerald green silk of my saree shimmering with every move.

"Seriously, *Patidev*?" I started, my voice dripping with playful drama. "It's only the **sixth day of our marriage**. It's Christmas. And you are heading to the office? *Jaruri hai kya?* (Is it really that important?)"

I walked up to him, my 5'3" frame feeling tiny as I looked up at his 6'3" stature. I reached out and toyed with the buttons of his charcoal shirt, my **engagement ring** catching the light.

"Maybe you should pay a little more attention to your wife, Mr. Rathor," I teased, narrowing my eyes at him. "Remember, I've already been 'kidnapped' once. Who knows? Someone might see this beautiful, neglected bride and decide to run away with her again while you're busy signing mergers."

The moment the word 'kidnapped' left my lips, Rudra's hands stopped their movement. The playful light in the room seemed to shift as his **ocean-blue eyes** darkened, locking onto mine with an intensity that made my breath hitch.

He didn't say anything at first. He simply reached out, his large, warm hands sliding around my waist, pulling me flush against his muscular chest. The heat from his body seeped through my saree, instantly chasing away the morning chill.

"Don't even joke about that, Ishita," he murmured, his voice a low, dangerous rumble near my ear. He leaned down, his nose brushing against my temple. "The world knows you belong to Rudra Singh Rathor. No one would dare even look at you with that intent. And if they did... they wouldn't live long enough to regret it."

"Ooh, so scary," I whispered, though my heart was hammering against my ribs. I wrapped my arms around his neck, my fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck. "If you're so protective, then stay. I'm working from home today-my makeup studio can wait. We could just stay in this room, watch Christmas movies, and hide from the world."

Rudra let out a soft, defeated sigh, resting his forehead against mine. I could see the conflict in his eyes-the battle between the man who built an empire and the man who was completely enslaved by his wife.

"You are a very tempting distraction, *Jaan*," he whispered. "But the London board is waiting. If I don't finish this today, it will haunt us through the New Year. I want our first New Year to be perfect, without a single phone call interrupting us."

He reached down, picking up his briefcase, but he didn't let go of my hand. He brought my palm to his lips, kissing the center of it-right where my **mehndi** was darkest.

"I'll be back in three hours," he promised. "While I'm gone, you stay inside. Don't go near the gate, don't even go to the balcony without Oscar. Understood?"

"Yes, my overprotective Prince," I laughed, pushing him toward the door. "Now go! The sooner you leave, the sooner you'll be back

He stopped at the door, giving me one last lingering look-the kind of look that told me he was already counting the seconds until he could return. "Three hours, Ishita. Not a minute more."

"I'm counting, Ru!" I called out as he stepped into the hallway.

I stood in the center of our room, the silence feeling heavy already. I looked at my reflection-the green saree, the glowing sindoor, and the smile I couldn't wipe off my face. Three years of waiting had been worth it for this.

👑 Rudra's Perspective

The boardroom of **Eternity** was silent enough to hear a pin drop. My executives sat stiffly, eyes glued to their tablets, terrified to make a sound while I reviewed the final clauses of the London merger. I was in my element-the "Cold-Hearted Prince," the man whose single glare could tank stocks and silence the most arrogant CEOs.

My phone buzzed on the mahogany table. I glanced at the screen. * Janna * was flashing.

The atmosphere in the room shifted instantly as I raised a hand, pausing the meeting. I didn't care about the millions of dollars on the line. I picked up the phone.

"Ishita?" I murmured, my voice losing its sharp, professional edge.

"Mr. Rathor," her voice came through, sounding suspiciously firm. "Don't you dare skip your lunch. I know how you get when you're 'busy.' If I find out you've only had black coffee, you're in trouble."

I leaned back in my leather chair, a tired smirk playing on my lips. My ocean-blue eyes caught Laksh's reflection in the glass-he looked like he was praying for his life. "Jaana, I'm in the middle of a very important closing. I'm busy. I'll eat later."

"Listen to me carefully, Rudra," she snapped, and I could practically see her pouting and pointing a finger at the phone. *"Agar mere hatho marna nhi h na to kha lo samje? Varna vahi aake aapka or Laksh ka khoon kr dungi!"* (If you don't want to die by my hands, then eat, understand? Otherwise, I'll come there and kill both you and Laksh!)

I felt a genuine chill go down my spine. This 5'3", thin, delicate girl was currently threatening a man who could crush most people with one hand. And the worst part? I knew she meant it.

"And another thing," her voice suddenly softened, turning into that sweet, melodic honey that always brought me to my knees. *"Time se ghar aa jao... aur haa, meri chocolate leke aana, plz love."* (Come home on time... and yes, bring my chocolate, please love.)

The line went dead before I could even respond.

I stared at the black screen of my phone for a good ten seconds. One moment she was a mafia queen threatening a double homicide, and the next, she was my sweet, chocolate-loving wife.

*Ek time dhamki deti h or ek pr pyaar karti h...* (One moment she threatens, and the next she loves.)

I looked up. The entire boardroom was staring at me. I cleared my throat, the "Ruthless Prince" mask sliding back on, though my heart was still racing from her "threat."

"Laksh," I barked.

Laksh jumped nearly six inches out of his chair. "Y-yes, Sir? Am I getting murdered, Sir?"

"Order lunch for the entire floor," I commanded, standing up and buttoning my blazer over my muscular frame. "And someone find out where the best artisanal dark chocolate in Delhi is. Now."

I am 6'3". I am a top 5 businessman in the world. I am Rajasthan's cold prince. I have faced kidnappers, blackmailers, and corporate sharks without blinking. But as I walked back toward my desk, I realized I was genuinely terrified of a 24-year-old girl who barely reaches my chest.

She's tiny, she's thin, and she looks like a porcelain doll-but she's the only person on this planet who can make the Great Rudra Singh Rathor tremble with a single phone call.

I sat down and pulled my laptop toward me, but my mind was already on the chocolate. If I forgot that chocolate, I wouldn't just be facing a "cold-hearted" wife-I'd be facing the wrath of Ishita Sharma Rathor.

5 years i craved for her I muttered to myself, a small, helpless smile tugging at my lips. "And now that I have her, I'm basically living under a dictatorship. A very beautiful, very short dictatorship."

💖 Ishita's Perspective

The evening sun was beginning to dip, casting long, golden shadows across the marble floors of the Rathor mansion. I was sitting in the grand living area with my "girl squad"-**Dhristi , **Reet**, and **Ahana**. We were surrounded by Christmas decorations, sipping on hot cocoa and laughing about some of Ahana's latest jewelry mishaps.

Despite the laughter, my eyes kept drifting toward the main entrance. My heart was doing that annoying, rhythmic dance it only does when I know *he* is about to walk through the door.

One by one, the men of the house began to arrive, looking like a literal parade of power and success.

First came **Papaji** (Ram Singh Rathore) and **Lakhan Chacha**, discussing a factory report from **The Rathor Company**. Then came **Akshat Bhai**, looking tired but satisfied, followed by **Vardaan**, who still had his black lawyer's robes draped over his arm, looking sharp and ready for a court battle. Finally, **Jay** walked in, looking runway-ready even after a long day of modeling, his hair perfectly coiffed.

But then, the air in the room seemed to shift. The temperature felt like it rose by five degrees.

My man-the **Head of the House**, the President of **Eternity**, the man who had been threatened with "murder" over the phone just hours ago-stepped into the foyer. Rudra looked devastating. His shirt was slightly unbuttoned at the collar now, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, exposing those powerful, veined forearms I loved so much.

Rudra didn't go to his father first. He didn't even look at his brothers. His **ocean-blue eyes** immediately locked onto mine, searching for me in the crowd. When he found me in my green saree, his gaze softened so significantly that the whole room went quiet for a second.

He was carrying a massive bouquet of **dark crimson roses** and a gift bag.

"Six days, *Janna*," he murmured, walking straight to me. He ignored the "Oohs" and "Aahs" from his siblings. He held out the flowers, the scent of fresh roses filling the space between us. "Happy 6-day anniversary."

I felt the heat rush to my cheeks instantly. I took the flowers, my **chooda** clinking as I tucked a loose lock of hair behind my ear. "Rudra... everyone is watching," I whispered, ducking my head.

"Let them watch," he replied, his voice a low, possessive hum. He reached into the bag and pulled out a **massive box of imported artisanal dark chocolates**-the exact ones I had demanded. "And here. Before you decide to carry out those threats you made this afternoon."

He then pulled out a smaller, mini-sized chocolate bar and handed it to **Krish**, who had come running. "And for the real boss of the house, a little something so he doesn't feel left out."

"Wait, wait, wait," Jay jumped in, leaning against the sofa with a smirk. "Did the 'Cold-Hearted Prince' just bring flowers for a *six-day* anniversary? Bhai, you're making the rest of us look bad! Vardaan, did you bring Reet anything for your 6th day? Because I don't remember any roses."

Vardaan laughed, shaking his head. "I think I was busy filing a brief. But then again, I didn't marry a 24-year-old firecracker who threatens to kill my assistant."

"Wait, she threatened to kill Laksh?" Akshat asked, grinning at me. "Bhabhi, remind me never to get on your bad side."

"She's tiny, but she's fierce," Dhristi teased, nudging me. "Look at her blushing! Our Badi Bahu has turned into a strawberry."

Under the cover of the laughter and the noise of Krish unwrapping his chocolate, Rudra stepped even closer to me. He leaned down, pretending to fix my silk pallu, but his lips brushed against the shell of my ear.

"The chocolates are in your hand, *Jaana*," he whispered, his breath hot against my skin, sending a delicious shiver down my spine. "Does that mean my life is safe for tonight? Or do I still need to sleep with one eye open?"

I looked up at him, my brown eyes meeting his blue ones. I reached out and playfully straightened his tie, my fingers lingering on his chest. "Your life is safe, *Patidev*... for now. But if you're even a minute late for our Christmas dinner, all bets are off."

Rudra's smirk widened, his hand finding the small of my back for a brief, firm squeeze before he turned to greet his father. I stood there, clutching my roses and my chocolate, feeling like the luckiest girl in the world.

The "Ruthless Prince" was officially under my thumb, and honestly? I think he liked it that way.